


First Impressions

by Peter164



Series: Alternate Universe [13]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, Diary/Journal, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9570647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peter164/pseuds/Peter164
Summary: Jerome found a lone journal sitting on a bench, worn out and leather. He opened it up to try and figure out who it belonged to, soon he fell in love with the writer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, I wrote more of these two. It's a miracle. Granted it's pretty hardcore AU, but I love these two so much that I couldn't wait to watch season 3. I decided to make it less creepy, that Bruce wouldn't be 13. He's still pretty young though.

Jerome wasn't really paying attention to what was happening on the train. Just like everyone else, he tapped away at his phone wasting time until he got to his stop. But he looked up at each stop to see how close to his apartment he was. The stop before his, he found the strangest thing in the seat beside him. 

A book.

The leather was worn, a buckle kept it closed. It must've been a day planner or something. Of course if it was a day planner the owner had to be 75 at least, and would most likely need it for their knitting sessions and bingo tournaments. The best way to find out, Jerome decided, was to open it up and see if there was a name or phone number inside. So that's what he did. He checked the front and back covers for anything to indicate who it belonged to. He checked the first few pages, finding only _T.W. & M.W. You're dearly missed._ Something happened to T.W and M.W. Who were they? What happened? Who wrote that? He kept turning pages to see if anything else popped up. Instead he found what must've been a diary entry. 

~*~

17 February

The therapist Alfred has assigned me to has decided I need a journal. She says it has helped many people find peace with tragedy. But she also says that I am different than the masses. She says it will keep negativity out of my head, it will help me sleep peacefully, it will make me happier, more content. She must've forgotten that the only negativity in my head is toward those who have wronged me. I only forgo sleep because I have so much work to attend to. Sleep only takes hours out of my day that could be used not lying in a comatose state and hallucinating for god knows what reason. She expects me to be happy when she knows that I have experienced the greatest tragedy known to man. 

Selina would tell me that statement is sexist and I should be ashamed such words left my lips. I have tried to explain to her that man is simply a shortened form of the word human, which in turn is a shortened form homo sapien. She doesn't listen to me. She only shouts at me any more, but somehow I experience nothing but apathy towards her. The adoration I felt years ago has faded into something of an annoyance. She is like a kitten that has grown into a fat and lazy housecat in its years. She does nothing but eat and sleep and steal. She teases me for my speech. She says I belong in Victorian times, I would make a decent novelist. I'd tell her to stay away from me and my home, but she is the closest thing to a friend I have. I can't lose another. 

Well I must close this short entry, as Alfred calls for dinner.

~*~

Jerome wanted to read more, but he needed to get off the train. He thought about food. He had instant noodles in the cupboard, milk that was most likely sour, and a couple energy drinks. He thought he should order pizza. The journal was tucked under his arm as he placed his order. The second the door shut behind him, he decided to keep track of what he knew. Alfred takes at least partial care of the writer, cooks them dinner, forces them to a therapist after a major tragedy. Maybe to do with T.W. and M.W. Selina was what can only be described as a frenemy. A bit of a bully, but a friend nonetheless. His writer must work their ass off if a therapist is concerned about how much sleep they get.

Jerome took his phone out of his pocket. He was going to find his writer. He took a picture of the cover and the note and posted it on every social media account he had, he wrote a short blurb of how he found the journal, and let his friends take over from there. He needed to read the next entry, but as soon as he reached for the book, someone knocked on the door. He paid for his pizza and sat down on the couch. He didn't read while he ate, he didn't want to ruin the book. Instead he watched a shitty soap opera on tv. The second he finished eating he opened the journal back up and read another entry.

~*~

18 February

Alfred wishes I go back to the idiotic high school. I don't want to tell him that last I went, I was pushed down the stairs. Many of the students would target me for horrific displays of dominance. Sometimes to the point that I must hold back tears to keep from further humiliating myself. They like to write evil words and phrases on me with marker so I miss class trying to scrub them off my face. Sometimes the girls put makeup on me and force me into skirts so they can take pictures and laugh at my misery. I do not understand why a person should do such things to another, for no better reason than romantic preference of gender.

It is a cruel world I am in, but one I must endure. If I am to achieve my goals, I must endure the worst. My peers teach me to stand my ground, no matter what is done to me. I do believe it has made me a better businessman, though Lucius and Alfred both agree that I am still not ready to run the company on my own. I am too prideful to admit to their face, but I do enjoy their help. They make the bumpy ride easier. They are like my training wheels. Training wheels I've had for 5 years now. I understand I am young, but I can take care of myself. 

Silena continues to train me. Today she told me to hit her. When I refuse, she said that they deserved to die. She said it was their fault, they should've known better. I broke her nose, and bruised her eyes. She left with her lower lip twice its normal size. I'm ashamed to admit that I'm not sorry for what I did to her. Jim said I'd make a good policeman if I wasn't already working full time. Maybe I could do it if I had help with the company and didn't work as often as the others. After all, Father was a pediatrician. I miss them.

~*~

Jerome stopped and took note of the new information. The writer is young, still in school. They must be homeschooled now, and bullied pretty badly. His writer must be a boy. They wouldn't get harassed with makeup and skirts if they weren't. Even a masculine girl wouldn't. He's bullied because he's not straight. A place Jerome knew too well. He has high standards, and been running a company for 5 years now. But he was so young. He'd be 13 at the very oldest, no wonder his caretakers were so worried about him. Speaking of which, Lucius must be another. He had a friend named Jim who wanted him to work for the police, not a good idea to bring that up. The kid must be running himself ragged. His dad was a doctor, and probably the CEO before his writer. And the tragic event included at least his dad. Kid could pack a punch too. 

Jerome decided to assume his writer was 18, because he was beginning to fall in love with him just a little. He'd dated underaged boys before, and it was honestly too much effort. He'd much rather not go through that ordeal again. But at the moment he wanted to scoop him up and wrap him up in blankets and bake him cookies. They could snuggle and watch Stranger Things on the couch together and make him feel safe. Wanting to comfort someone was a new feeling to Jerome, he usually didn't care very much about others. But something about learning from the inside out, made him much more appealing. 

His phone dinged and made him groan. Barbara was sent him a total of three Snapchats in the past 3 minutes. The first was a selfie of her in lacy underwear saying _Clubbing/hopeful hot or not?_ The next was a selfie of her in a skintight black dress gold straps across her exposed cleavage and shoulders. She had in a different earring in each ear, gold hoops in her left and gold bows with cute little black balls hanging underneath on the right. _Can't decide help!!!_ The third was a black screen with _I NEED DETAILS ABOUT THIS DIARY!!!!!_

He took a picture of his tv because that's what was in front of him. _1\. Hot 2. Bows. Hoops can get messy 3. Get ready w/ me?_ He sent it off and waited for her to FaceTime him. As soon as he got the call, he answered. 

"Jerry, oh my god. You are a lifesaver as always. Please tell me you read it!" She said. She was in her bathroom doing her makeup. 

"Only two entries so far and i'm hooked. And don't call me Jerry, you make me feel like the Rick and Morty character." He told her. She stuck her tongue out and started putting a lighter shade of goop under her eyes and smacking herself with the pink thing that was pointy on one side. 

"You really think the bows? They seem a little childish." She pointed out.

"Yeah, maybe you can convince someone you haven't slept with everyone over 18 in a 10 mile radius of your house. Besides, what happens if you get drunk and some bitch looks at you the wrong way?" He asked. She contemplated his response and nodded. Now she was putting a lot of powder under her eyes and more powder on the rest of her face. 

"So any idea who wrote the diary?" She asked. He shook his head.

"It's some kid, still in high school. Far as I can tell, his life is pretty shity. Something happened to his dad at least, he's bullied for i assume being gay, and he's running an entire company almost by himself." Jerome shrugged. Barbara asked him to pick a lipstick color. He picked the black over the pale pink. She giggled at his bold choice and put it on. 

"Sounds like something you can relate to." She bat her eyelashes at him. He laughed sarcastically and stuck his tongue out at her.

"You know you don't have to use me for every decision you make." He reminded her. 

"I know, but you're good at it. And what good is a gay best friend if he doesn't help you pick out lingerie?" She asked with a smile. He rolled his eyes at her as she worked on her eyes, "Does he have good handwriting?"

"Fucking amazing handwriting. Makes my life helluva lot easier." He said. She giggled and took off the top part of her dress to put makeup on her boobs to make them look bigger. 

"You're falling in love with someone you shouldn't again. Remember how much trouble that 15 year old caused? Best not to get involved." She told him.

"I know. You're right." He sighed.

"Darling, I'm always right." She said sweetly.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a Snapchat, so the only real knowledge I have is once my cousin took a dog selfie with me and put it on Snapchat. That and sometimes I watch my sister play with filters because it's the funniest thing I've ever seen. And I'm uploading this ad 5 am on my birthday. Fucking fantastic start to my day.
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> [Barbara's dress Inspiration](http://data.whicdn.com/images/32081311/tumblr_m6h0s9Vp3Q1qedulmo1_500_large.jpg)
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> [Barbara's Earrings Sorta](http://g02.a.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1y4m6LXXXXXaJXXXXq6xXFXXXZ/Fashion-Hot-Sale-Luxury-font-b-Crystal-b-font-font-b-Bow-b-font-stud-font.jpg)


End file.
